


Out of Shadow

by DarknessAroundUs



Series: Teen Wolf Inspired Verse [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Pregnancy, Werewolf Mates, or rather they become known, planned but a surprise, spoilers in tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:49:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24039163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarknessAroundUs/pseuds/DarknessAroundUs
Summary: Starts with a feral werewolf, ends with the first day of school, and somewhere in the middle there is a talk show.A sequel to All We Know is Midnight. Can stand on its own.
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Series: Teen Wolf Inspired Verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1734097
Comments: 31
Kudos: 64
Collections: 7th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees, Riverdale Bingo Winter 2020





	Out of Shadow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KittiLee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittiLee/gifts).



> Happy (belated) Birthday KittiLee! I'm so grateful to have you in my life, you are such a wonderful friend and artist and you deserve all the good things!
> 
> I'm very grateful to the extraordinary MotherMaple for beta-ing this. It is stronger because of her.
> 
> This is my free space square fill for Riverdale Bingo. 
> 
> This started out with no plot, and yet plot kept forcing it's way in like a train. This like the first part in the series is inspired by Teen Wolf fanfiction, but this time I focused on one trope/tag and explored it.

FP’s call comes through at 2 AM, and Jughead pulls himself from bed, his hair a dark mess around his face. He answers it on the balcony, the moon barely a sliver over head.

“There’s a dead buck near the mouth of Sweetwater River,” FP says, not bothering with a greeting.

“You woke me up for that?” Jughead can’t keep the irritation out of his voice completely. Sleep clings to his body, and he’d much rather be spooning Betty than standing on the balcony in the middle of winter. His wolfy-ness is the only reason his teeth aren’t chattering. But he doesn’t want to wake Betty with yet another late-night call.

“Only the bones and the heart were left behind. It’s a fresh kill.”

“Shit,” Jughead says. It’s probably an omega then, crazy and desperate enough to enter the Jones’ territory and eat their game. ”I can be there in twenty.”

“See ya then, son.” There’s a click on the other end, and Jughead re-enters the house.

Betty’s always been a light sleeper so Jughead shouldn’t be surprised when Betty asks, “Is there anything I can do?” She’s half hidden in their floral comforter, as if she’s a hibernating fox, safe in its den, just her nose and eyes visible.

“Just a case from my dad. A dead deer out by Sweetwater. I’ve got to take a look.”

Jughead’s helped FP out on cases with a supernatural element ever since FP was elected sheriff over a decade ago. First it was unofficial work, Jughead being a teen at the time, but soon after he graduated high school, FP hired him on as a consultant. 

The hours are usually bad but the pay is generous.

Betty tosses off the covers and stands up, her back arching as she stretches her limbs. Jughead wants nothing more than to go back to bed with her and not sleep. Not that that is an option now, as Betty’s pulling on long wool socks, first over her feet and then over the bottom of her Hello Kitty PJs. 

“Please stay?” he asks her, even though he knows it’s too late. Betty is a deputy, with actual hours, and long ones at that, and she won’t let him go to a crime scene alone.

He understands it in a way: even though she’s been back from college over a year now it still feels like every moment they spend together, even the ones that involve blood and teeth, is precious. 

“I’m up now. Might as well go,” Betty says, pulling a hoodie on. It’s big and boxy, but considering she’s not actually working it’s fine.

Jughead always likes seeing her like this. In his head, he refers to this look, all messy curls and too-big clothes, as “Fuck you, Alice Cooper.” Not that Betty has said anything, even that, to Alice in years.

The car ride out to the mouth of Sweetwater River is quiet, but Jughead appreciates the warmth of her hand on his thigh. 

No one but his dad’s at the crime scene. Jughead expects to see FP near the bones but instead his dad’s in his car, fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, the motor running. 

Jughead gets out of their car, and Betty automatically takes his place in the driver’s seat, her hands on the wheel, in case anything happens. Jughead walks over to his dad’s car.

He can smell a werewolf, close by. Their scent is too sweet to be sane. 

FP rolls the window down a little and says, “The omega came by five minutes ago. I barely made it to the car.”

“Ok.” Jughead could ask what they look like, but he already knows by their scent that they are male. An omega this far gone would be naked, and - given the deer - blood streaked. They can’t blend into a crowd.

Jughead follows the scent. He’s curious why the omega came back, why they are lingering at all. The buck should be enough to sate the omega temporarily. 

There’s rustling in the trees and Jughead turns in time to see the omega dropping like a stone from halfway up a maple tree, an arrow sticking from his back. 

The arrow is dyed cherry red, of course. Jughead hears the string of a bow pulled back, and he runs towards the sound. Cheryl will ready an arrow to shoot him, but she won’t actually go through with it. A fact that’s abundantly clear once he sees her, halfway up a tree dressed in an outfit better suited for a music video shoot, arrow aimed and ready. 

“Hi,” he says, holding his arms up in mock surrender. 

“Wolfman,” she replies, one eyebrow arched. “Why didn’t you take care of the riff-raff?”

Jughead shakes his head. “I was about to.”

“Promises, promises.”

Jughead just smiles up at her. He can smell the wolfsbane on her arrow, but he’s not afraid. 

Clifford would have killed him already; Penelope would have manipulated him to death. Cheryl just likes having attention on her, of almost any kind. 

“He wasn’t in the area long,” Jughead says, although Cheryl knows that. Omegas aren’t exactly subtle with the carcasses. “What are you doing out here?”

“Besides killing rabid dogs?”

“Yes, besides that.”

“I wanted to tell you that I think they are making the wrong move,” Cheryl says. The cryptic message is accompanied by a nervous look, one Jughead’s never seen on Cheryl’s face before. It surprises him that she’s even capable of looking nervous.

“Who made the wrong move?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” she says, lowering her bow and jumping backwards out of the tree, into the dark of the forest.

He can see her running away for a quarter mile, can hear her for a half mile after that. 

He couldn’t help but hope that the warning was just Cheryl being Cheryl, which is to say a melodramatic bitch. When they get back home, it’s still dark out, but he can’t fall asleep.

Instead he lies in the dark, focusing on Betty’s steady but slow breathing.

*

Riverdale is so backwards and small that Betty has to drive two towns over to get decent wolfsbane. But she doesn’t mind the drive; Greendale has a nice cafe next to the herbal shop. Jughead usually comes with her, and they make a date out of it. 

But, Jughead’s busy helping his dad track down a witch who's been wreaking havoc at neighborhood farms, and they are so low on mountain ash, wolfbane, and silver that Betty can’t put it off another day.

Also, even though Betty’s trying not to worry about it, she and Jughead have been trying for a baby for six months now, with lots of joyous efforts, but zero results. She’s hoping Al will have some idea of what supplements might help with that. 

At this point Betty can’t help but feel like the sooner she starts on the supplements the better. She knows they’re young, but they have money, their life is stable and orderly, and her heart feels pulled towards children. 

Betty hums along to Ben Howard’s growly angst as she drives across the county line into Greendale, buys herself a spicy hot chocolate and then ducks into Al’s Teas and Herbs, which smells more like coffee beans than the cafe does.

Al’s behind the counter. He’s an older druid, with long hair and glasses with thick plastic frames. Betty’s been going to him for years now, not just for ingredients but for advice on how to deal with more unusual creatures. His help was invaluable with the pixie infestation of 2018. Because of Al’s help, only Sweet Pea lost all of his hair.

He’s lonely and often will talk for an hour if Betty lets him. Today when he spots her, instead of sharing his usual luminous grin, the sides of his mouth curve up only slightly, before he says, “How are you Betty?”

“Good.” She means it honestly. When she was away at college she felt like she was split in two - one half was an ordinary human, the other was a werewolf's mate and Second. Now that she’s returned to Riverdale, and become a deputy, she feels like herself again.

“How are you?” she asks, already bracing for the answer she can feel coming. 

Al shakes his head. “Ok for now, but I’m worried about the rumor.”

Betty hadn’t heard of any rumors lately, never mind the rumor. 

“What rumor?” she asks.

“They say the hunters are planning to expose us.” 

The ‘us’ in the statement is clearly the magical community at large. Technically Betty’s not part of the ‘us’. She’s not a druid or a werewolf, she’s just mated to one - although that makes all the difference, really, for most hunters: to make the choice Betty did is just as bad as being a witch or a vampire (not that the latter exist).

Betty should feel terrified by the statement; instead she’s not even surprised. Every other year there’s a rumor about something like this. 

“Isn’t there always a rumor like that going around?” Betty asks, raising an eyebrow. She knows Al’s bullshit meter is almost as good as her own. 

Al huffs. “Of course there is! I wasn’t born yesterday, but this one came from three different sources.”

That’s a little more chilling. “Who?” Betty asks. The magical community is small, odds are she’ll know them or know of them.

“Miss Grundy, Sabrina, and Mr. Weatherbee.”

Betty’s never heard anything good about Miss Grundy. If she stepped one foot into Jones territory she would be killed like any other succubus, but here in Greendale, she’s protected by the Peabody pack.

Sabrina’s a witch who Betty actually knows and likes. Betty’s not sure she trusts her, because witches are shifty, but Sabrina’s words can’t be dismissed.

Mr. Weatherbee’s her old principle and he’s a druid also, although one that leans more into the cryptic cliché than Al ever would. Still, she trusts him not to lie about something like this. 

“Did they have any details?” Betty asks, her feet starting to tap nervously against the floor. She can feel nausea build in her gut.

“Apparently they captured one of the Evernever pack, and they plan to videotape them wolfing out and release it to the media.”

The Evernever pack are a large family two counties over. Betty doesn’t know them well. Their Alpha, Edgar, has a bit of a cult following within the community for claiming that werewolves can live forever, but the Jones’s have always steered clear of them. 

Before, the rumors had always been vague. They’d involved an unnamed omega or a witch without a coven, not a nearby pack with an Alpha Betty knew in passing. 

Al reaches out and grabs her arm. Only then does she realize that it’s shaking.

Al helps her sit down in a chair in the back of the shop and then he busies himself with running from shelf to shelf gathering all the supplies on Betty’s list.

If Hunters tell the world about werewolves, Betty can’t trust the world not to become hunters. Betty still remembers learning about the Salem Witch Trials for the first time in third grade. Only then had it become clear to her how seriously she had to take Juggie’s secret. 

She thanks Al, and smiles wanly at him as she leaves. She’s sure her smile is a mirror of his initial one.

As soon as she’s in the car she calls Jughead. Just hearing his voice on the other end of the line feels like relief. 

His reaction to the rumor is less profound than hers. He sighs and mentions setting Google Alerts, but the bone deep fear that is impacting her, seems to have no effect on him.

Only at home in bed that night, her head pressed against Jughead’s bare chest does she think about the fertility supplements she meant to ask Al about. She’s glad she didn’t now.

The timing no longer feels right.

*

Jughead’s sprinting through the woods, rabbit still heavy in his belly, when he hears Sweet Pea’s howl. It’s the best kind, full of joy and celebration. Perfect for the full moon. Jughead joins in, and then Toni, Archie, Veronica, and Fangs. 

Right at the end he can hear Betty chime in. Her howl’s the most human of course, but unlike Josie and Kevin, the other non-wolves in the pack, she always joins them for the full moon run. 

Her howl, the waver in it, anchors and soothes him. That’s his home, howling for him. 

As soon as she’s done, he dashes in her direction. The closer he gets the more he can smell her. The rest of the pack’s far behind him now. He’s heading deeper into the forest, to where Lilly Lake is. 

He sees her before he sees the lake. She’s in the water, floating steadily on her back, looking like a mythological creature in her own right, naked with hair curling out and away. 

It’s been a hard month with the threat of public revelation hanging over them, and it’s impacted Betty the most. For the first time in years her nails have turned inwards, and only now that so much time has passed is she beginning to seem ok. Like she actually believes that this is a threat without armour.

Jughead shakes the wolf form off, returns to his smooth-skinned self. The noise of his shake alerts Betty to his presence, and she stands up.

She’s in deep enough that the water covers everything under her belly button. Her breasts heavy, she reminds Jughead in this moment of Botticelli’s Birth of Venus.

Unlike Botticelli’s Venus, she has scars. Even from here, he can see the scar the fae gave her on her ribcage, then there’s the scar that bisects her in a straight line from breastbone to navel, that the Darach left behind.

“Love,” he says as she walks towards him, the water splashing around her. “You look beautiful.”

Betty laughs, one arm pulling her hair back to reveal the mark he left on her collarbone over a year ago. It’s a scar that’s long healed, the only scar she has that he’s happy about. Their mating mark. 

When Betty’s standing right in front of him, strong and vulnerable with each breath, she says, “The water’s actually kind of gross. A swim was nicer in theory than in practice.” 

The water smelled a little like boiled eggs, and the mud on the bottom stuck to his feet in a way that could never be described as pleasant. Yet he was here with Betty, which meant that this moment was precious. 

He presses his lips against hers, his chest against hers. She’s surprisingly cold, but it feels nice, refreshing, an added point of pleasure as he kisses her. 

*

They’re on the balcony reading the Sunday Times when someone knocks on their door. 

Betty feels frustrated that their one rule, no knocking when the door is closed, is being violated. So instead of getting up and answering it, she ignores it and takes a sip of mostly cold coffee.

Whoever is knocking is persistent though, and the noise level increases, the door shaking. 

Jughead unfocuses his gaze from the paper in front of him and shouts, “Alone time is sacred.”

“You need to see this,” Toni’s voice says on the other end of the door. The fact that she’s ignoring her alpha’s order sends a clear signal, this must be an actual emergency - not like last time when Sweet Pea interrupted them to ask for Betty’s blueberry muffin recipe. 

Jughead’s striding towards the door by the time Betty gets up from her chair. The door opens, revealing a wide-eyed Toni on the other side, her arm extending her cell phone, a freeze frame from a video with an arrow in front of it on the screen. Betty can see that Edgar Evernever is frozen in the shot, in his human form. He’s bruised but standing, his wrists and ankles chained.

Betty presses the arrow, the cell phone still in Toni’s shaking hand. On screen, a masked stranger shoots a gun at Edgar; Edgar’s whole body shifts when the bullet hits it, in a way that Betty knows so well. His teeth extending, his hair growing, claws like sharp knives, eyes burning red. 

The video ends before the effects of the wolfsbane show on Edgar’s body, before he’s brought to his knees by the power of a bullet laced by it. The hunters are clearly avoiding anything that might elicit too much sympathy. Betty feels like throwing up.

“Fuck,” Jughead says, and Betty can feel that word reverberate through her body.

She’s seen werewolves transform a thousand times before. But it’s always been in person. The idea of ever filming one, even a training session, was unfathomable. Footage leaking has always been one of the fears that haunts her nights.

“How many people have seen it?” Betty asks. 

“I don’t know exactly, but it’s had ten million views,” Toni answers.

Even if the same very persistent toddler pressed play all day, that wouldn’t account for that kind of view count.

“How long has it been up?” Jughead asks. 

“2 hours.” 

“Holy shit,” Jughead says. “Have the others seen it?”

Toni shakes her head. “It’s 10 AM the night after a full moon. Hell I’m shocked you two were up.” Although honestly Toni should know by now that Betty’s incapable of sleeping past 9 AM. Some Alice Cooper rules are easier to outgrow than others.

The hunters had picked the perfect time to release it. If they’d chosen some other time, some other date, a vigilant pack would have caught it before it reached a hundred views and taken it down.

It was far too late for that now. There was no going back. 

Werewolves had existed for thousands of years in secret, and now they were public knowledge.

*

It’s strange to walk through town, and for every other word he hears to involve werewolves. People are chatting about them on the sidewalk, in their backyards, and bedrooms. 

Everyone has seen the video, if not on Youtube than on CNN or NBC (or even fucking Fox News).

It’s not just the one video either, of Edgar wolfing out. There are actually three more. One’s filmed in India, in broad daylight, a temple visible in the background, another somewhere in France. 

People know this isn’t a local problem, but “a worldwide epidemic,” (to quote The New York Post).

It’s a strange feeling to have the one secret he’s carried with him his whole fife be exposed like this. The only difference between this and the dream where he’s naked in front of an auditorium full of people is that no one knows he’s a werewolf, they just know werewolves exist.

Old Miss Solverson smiles at Jughead as he passes, and the butcher nods out his window like nothing has changed. 

The good thing about the news breaking the way it did is that, even though now everyone believes werewolves are real, no one knows how embedded in society they are. 

Edgar’s identity has already been tracked down by the New York Times and when it was revealed he was a cult leader, the public seemed to decide, more or less unanimously, that werewolves were outliers. 

The werewolf in India was a hermit, the one in France was homeless. They were all outliers. They were cult leaders and hermits, not upstanding citizens with cute life partners in law enforcement. 

Betty squeezes his hand reassuringly as they enter Pops; she knows that ever since the news broke he’s been on edge, ready for an attack.

Instead Pop greets him with a warm, “Hi Jug, Betty,” and ushers them to their normal booth. 

Two booths over, Jughead hears Mr. Dovercourt tell Mrs. Dovercourt not to worry, that he bought silver bullets for his gun before they all sold out online. Jughead’s grateful that humans believe that particular fairy tale, instead of looking deeper into the lore.

Behind the counter, Bethany the server talks about how they should start killing all the werewolves, and that is what will make it great again. 

Jughead stiffens, even Betty’s warm hand on his thigh only helps steady him so much.

“I think they're all overreacting,” Pop says, sliding into the other side of their booth with a sigh. “I mean the wolf only turned when he was shot. He was already in chains and beaten.”

This is even more shocking to Jughead than Bethany’s reaction. Betty, of course, holds it together, and says, “It hardly seemed like a fair fight.”

Pop leans in closer to them, his heavy arms pressed against the formica table. “I think it would change all their minds if they were to learn what werewolves really are like. To discover that they already have friends that are wolves.”

Jughead feels like Pop’s gaze is capable of burning a hole in him right now. There’s not a doubt in Jughead’s mind that Pop knows who Jughead is, who he’s really been this whole time. Jughead’s just not sure how. 

Sure, he orders his burgers on the rarer side, but so do all the hipsters. Years ago during a heated debate with Archie over the Jukebox, Jughead’s claws dropped, but at the time he would have sworn Pop hadn’t seen that. 

Still it doesn’t matter how Pop knows, only that he does, and he’s kept it to himself till now. That he’s clearly on their side.

Jughead still can’t bring himself to respond, but Betty’s good on her feet, so she reaches over, squeezes Pop’s arm and says, very quietly, “We will think about it.”

Pop’s eyes are watering a little as he nods and says, “I better get those orders in,” before scooting out of the booth.

Pop’s words follow Jughead home. The idea terrifies him, and he’s never thought of himself as the poster boy for anything. But still this suggestion feels like a way forward. A possible source of hope.

If it doesn’t all backfire terribly.

*

Betty’s already having a horrible day at work, complete with headache and lower back pain, when she gets a text from FP that says: “Be prepared.” 

Even though Betty texts him a question marks 85 times over the next hour she never receives a text back.

She has no idea what to prepare for, so she covers the basics. She makes sure there’s room in the holding cells, she checks the perimeter of the station, and she loads her service weapon with wolfsbane bullets. 

Everyone else on duty looks relaxed and happy, even Sweet Pea, so she’s sure FP only contacted her. 

About an hour later the press shows up, a full contingent of news vans and cameras. The feeling in the station starts to change. People take more bathroom breaks than usual. The receptionist keeps glancing out the window.

Betty glances online but nothing obvious has been leaked that she can see. 

Then the noise outside builds from a murmur into a shouting match, and two minutes later the front doors open, held by two junior deputies.

When FP enters with a wolfed-out omega in a double straight jacket behind him, Fangs is also helping secure the omega even though he looks sedated. His teeth may be out, but his eyes are droopy. 

Clifford Blossom is next to Fangs, looking as proud as the cat that swallowed the canary. 

Betty throws up. She tells FP it’s nerves, but that doesn’t stop her from dropping by the pharmacy on the way home. 

The evening news worldwide features the footage shot in Riverdale, of the werewolf stumbling towards the precinct after the scowling sheriff. Betty doesn’t watch any of it. Instead she pees on a stick. 

Jughead kisses her belly, the tension around his eyes relaxing even though it has every reason to stay.

*

Everywhere Jughead goes online there are ads for werewolf prevention spray, online defense class, and detector kits. 

*

FP asks for Betty’s help with a murder investigation after a family of five, living on the edge of town, is killed on their farm.

Someone drew crosses and pentagrams on every wall. There’s no sign that anyone in the family practiced witchcraft. Although after Betty checks under all the floorboards it’s pretty clear that the oldest son had other problems.

When Jughead comes to consult he confirms that everyone’s human. 

A week later a Humans' Rights group takes full credit for murdering them. 

Every night in Betty’s dreams, Jughead and their baby are killed. Every morning she throws up in the trash bin. 

She’s wearing more and more make-up to work.

*

When Jughead first brought up the idea, Betty had asked a lot of questions “What if the audience becomes enraged? How will you coming out affect our child? Our life together?”

Months of talking between the two of them, and screaming it out with the pack, has brought them to the greenroom of the Ellen DeGeneres show. (Kevin had made lots of inappropriate jokes about how it was the best show to come out on.) 

Betty’s hand is heavy on his thigh. Her words all morning have been comforting, even if her lips press tightly together when she thinks he’s not looking. He’s nervous too, it’s just nothing good will come of talking about it.

Jughead is pretty sure they’ve made the right choice. Because, even though Ellen had screamed when he first showed his fangs, she’d gotten over it quickly, talking to him like he was a person and hugging him goodbye. 

The media hasn’t had much news to report on in terms of werewolves since FP arrested the werewolf in Riverdale, who turned out to be part of the Peabody pack and a low-level thief named Gus Vance. 

Gus refused to cooperate. He’s in a federal prison now, although there’s been some fuss about that, because he’s been found guilty of no specific crimes. 

Jughead does not want to end up in the cell next to him, but it’s too late to back out now, because Ellen’s PA knocks on the door and ushers him out before he even has time to kiss Betty’s forehead. 

Ellen greets him with a hug, and he returns it. Ellen warms up Jughead and the crowd by asking softball questions, while somehow artfully skirting why he’s here in the first place - it’s not like he’s famous.

But he tries to be charming. He smiles for the camera, tries to say sarcastic things that are actually funny. 

The crowd starts grinning at him as if he is famous when he says he’d rather be a good partner than a good employee, apologizing to his dad out of the corner of his mouth.

Ellen seems to know how to do something he’s never been particularly good at doing himself - at least in high school. She’s able to make him likable to strangers.

Jughead knows the moment of true vulnerability comes when Ellen turns to him and says, “A lot of people are wondering why you are here today, and I thought you should tell them why.”

Jughead shrugs and leans forward in the chair. “I’ve led a quiet life. I grew up in a small town, I’ll probably live there forever. It’s hard to find anyone there who doesn’t know me, either from back when I was working on the school paper, which I still volunteer at, or from the local diner.”

He pauses now because Ellen has a clip prepared exactly for this moment, which her PA presses play on. 

On the screen directly behind them, Reggie Mantle’s face appears, his cheeks a little more full then they were in highschool.

“Of course I know Jughead, he’s a weirdo,” Reggie says, then adds flippantly, “But you know, still a good dude.”

Ethel’s up next, her lips so falsely red that they look a little bloody - “No one in town doesn’t know Jughead. He’s a legend for working at the Drive-In as long as he did and helping out the police. He’s a hero. He even saved my cat once.”

Pop is up next. He’s standing behind the counter as he usually is, a bright smile on his face. “Jughead’s my best customer. He and Betty are the only reason I’m still in business. He orders four burgers every time he comes.”

The crowd in the studio that Jughead has forgotten about is laughing, and the video stops.

“And you're planning to live in that town always?” Ellen asks.

“I hope. If they’ll have me. There’s something I want to share on here that might change their mind.”

“What is that?” Ellen asks, leaning forwards as if she’s genuinely curious and doesn’t already know the answer. 

“I’m a werewolf,” Jughead says with a slight tilt of his head. 

“No!” Ellen says. “Really?”

The audience doesn’t react at all, as if they don’t believe him yet. They probably don't. Jughead can’t help but picture Betty pacing in the green room at this point.

“I have been my whole life. I’ve never had a choice about it. My mother was a werewolf and she passed those genes to me.”

“I just don’t believe you,” Ellen says. ”Can I see proof?” There is some giggling in the crowd, as if they don’t buy it either. They glance around the set as if something entirely different is about to happen.

“I don’t know. I don’t want to scare you,” Jughead says. They’ve practiced these lines.

“You won’t,” Ellen says confidently, although she was in fact scared the first time. 

“But what about the audience?” Jughead asks.

“They don’t mind,” she says, turning towards the audience. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“NO!” The audience roars back. Jughead’s a little surprised by their enthusiasm. 

“Ok,” he says, standing up. He stares out into the crowd for just a moment and then he transforms into his beta form, rather than the full wolf. He knows he looks strange this way, his eyes glowing, his nails extended. 

The crowd goes silent, quiet and still around them for a second and then the gasps start. At that moment he shifts again to his full wolf form, his wolf’s hair dark and long around him. 

Ellen says, “Oh!” as if she really is shocked. He pads towards her slowly, trying to seem friendly and measured in the way he walks. 

When he gets close to her he extends a paw, which feels so awkward. Before they practiced it in the studio yesterday, he’d never done anything like this before. After all, he’s a wolf, not a house pet. 

His paw is on Ellen’s hand when the crowd starts roaring, not with anger, but with astonishment, joy even. Only then does he let a sliver of hope enter his heart. 

*

When Betty’s checking out at the Piggly Wiggly, Mrs. Martin, the former librarian scowls at her. 

They’ve been back five days now, and they’ve spent them holed up the packhouse, watching other werewolves come out on everything from the Stephen Colbert show to YouTube. 

In the most unexpected twist, Anderson Cooper shows his fangs and starts crying.

It’s been an emotional week. There’s a hint of bump in the mirror now. 

Betty walks past Mrs. Martin without acknowledging her. It doesn’t stop Mrs. Martin from muttering “Wolfwhore” underneath her breath. 

The checkout attendant, a woman in her late 50’s whose name tag reads Nancy, smiles at Betty and says, “Never mind her. She’s always had a stick up her butt”.

Mrs. Martin huffs and marches off in the direction of the manager's office.

“I don’t want to get you in trouble,” Betty says. The last thing she wants is for someone kind-hearted like Nancy to have to pay for someone else’s prejudices.

“Don’t you worry,” Nancy says with a smile. “My manager loves me. Besides, I’m pretty sure she’s a vampire.”

Betty stops herself from telling Nancy that vampires aren’t real, as Nancy places all the eggs in one of the reusable shopping bags Betty brought.

*

By the time Daisy starts school, the integration is almost seamless. There’s a werewolf vice president, and there hasn’t been a real protest (those idiots with signs by the side of the road don’t count) in two years. 

Jughead still finds himself worried when he drops her off, listening for the sound of a threat or a rumor. Everyone knows who she is, what their family is. He watches to see if the other parents let their kids play with her. They do. He listens to the pulse of everyone who compliments Daisy’s new dress, in case it’s a lie. Their hearts don’t skip a beat.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I know I'm behind on answering comments (I'm sorry - Riverdale Bingo and my work schedule are kicking my butt), but I will answer them eventually and they always make my day. 
> 
> Most importantly, stay safe!


End file.
